


a few questions

by verity



Series: tween wolf [31]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Possession, Friendship, Gen, Party, Pool Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia leans back to inspect her work, brushes her thumb along Allison's cheekbone. "There. You're good."</p>
            </blockquote>





	a few questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskey_in_tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskey_in_tea/gifts).



> content notes: there's some ableist language in here

Allison's swimsuit is a deep green one-piece with a sweetheart neckline and padded cups that make her boobs look like Lydia's. "It's not terrible," Lydia says, tilting Allison's head so she can blend foundation along Allison's jawline. "You'd look so much better in a bikini, though, are you sure the halter—"

"I like this one," Allison says, stubborn. She still doesn't understand why they're wearing makeup to a pool party, but apparently they're not going into the water. _If a boy tries to push you in, scream and shove him back,_ Lydia said. _This is a party, not a swim meet._

Lydia leans back to inspect her work, brushes her thumb along Allison's cheekbone. "There. You're good."

—

After Lydia's boyfriend (who complains about the onerous task of transporting all of the illicitly obtained beer), Scott and his friend Isaac are the first people to turn up. "We're manning the grill," Scott says. He bends down to hook up the propane tank. "Serving up burgers and hot dogs and veggie skewers all night long, oh yeah."

Isaac shifts on his feet. "Scott's manning the grill. I'm handing him things."

"Handing me things is very important!" Scott says. "I'm like a surgeon in the OR, and you're my mom! Wait, that didn't work."

"Your mom's not in surgery," Isaac says. Scott turns around and they share a brief, complicit look. "I mean—"

Lydia drifts up to them, puts a bottle of beer in Allison's hand, sits another on the table next to Scott. "Look what my charming sister has brought us," she says. "Coronas. Sorry, not enough for you, Lahey."

"And by 'brought,' you mean that you swiped them." Scott stands up, dusts his hands off on his swim shorts. He glances back toward the house, and Allison follows, looking over her shoulder at—

—she'd know Derek Hale anywhere, even after all this time. He's grown into his big ears and knobby knees: now he's all rippling muscle beneath his clothes, hair short enough to bare the vulnerable nape of his neck. Lydia's sister is sitting down on the floor across from him, shuffling a deck of cards. She looks human enough, but they often do.

—

Allison drinks a beer or two, alternates with water. She's never gotten drunk before, and now's not the time, surrounded by all these stupid, innocent kids fooling around like there's nothing else in the world but this. Lydia moves through the crowd easily; everyone shines when she stops to talk to them, awed subjects in the presence of their queen. There's a few grumpy wallflowers on the edges—Stiles and his friend Erica are hanging out with Scott and Isaac at the grill—but for the most part, the crowd acts like they're in some kind of royal presence.

Sure, Allison's been to gatherings like this before, held them, but they were different: she'd earned that respect.

—

They've moved into the drunken dancing portion of the evening when Allison sees Matt across the pool. He's not doing anything, really, just leaning against the house and drinking a beer, but he smiles when he catches her eye and then—

Her whole body goes cold, trembles, like she's stepped out of the shower into walk-in fridge. Goosebumps rise up on her skin. The thing in her claws at her throat before it pushes up, out, steams off her like water condensing in the air. For the first time since she called it up, Allison feels—fearless. Calm. Like everything might be okay.

That's when she notices everyone screaming.

—

There's nothing she can do, that's the problem. Allison doesn't know how to call it back inside her like this, when it's—it's everywhere, not just this crushing presence in her lungs or a choking fog that surrounds her. She kneels down and looks at the water, tries to think, but she doesn't _know_. The second bestiary is gone. Her grandfather is dead. She destroyed the papers.

Someone puts a hand on her arm, and she flinches.

"It's just me, Allison," Scott says in her ear, low, comforting. "We're—we're going to fix this, okay? We've got you."

"Turn around," Stiles says, behind her.

Allison lets Scott tug her toward him, pull her to her feet, bracing her with his arm the whole time. Then he backs off a little, leaving his hand on her shoulder. He looks—worried, but not afraid, which is stupid, stupid, stupid.

They're just boys. They don't know what they're dealing with.

"Hang in there, okay?" Stiles says, coming closer. He has something laced through his fingers, stretched out between his hands—it looks like a cat's cradle, sort of, the strands flickering in the light like there's a metallic thread in there somewhere. "I have to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah," Allison says. "Okay."

Stiles takes a deep breath before he meets her eyes. "What is its name?" he says. "Where is its mark?"

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
